


unfurled blooms

by mercuryhatter



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Drabble Sequence, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life, Trans Jaskier, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22222753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/pseuds/mercuryhatter
Summary: mostly about my trans headcanons for jaskier. will eventually be geralt/jaskier; rating and tags subject to change.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 21
Kudos: 273





	unfurled blooms

“How often does this happen to you?” Jaskier asked, his words shaken with quiet laughter. He shrugged his shoulders to swing his lute around to the front, hitting a few chords. “ _ His scars tell his stories, causing ladies in bed to sing of his glories-- _ ” 

“Stop it,” Geralt said, clearly embarrassed, though his push on Jaskier’s shoulder carried little weight. “All too often. I should have known better than to mention it to you.” 

“Too late now,” Jaskier said gleefully. “I haven’t yet stepped much into the field of erotic song yet, this might be my grand debut.” 

“They will never find your body, bard,” Geralt said. His voice was just as dark and warning as if he’d meant it earnestly, but Jaskier knew the set of his lips and the gentle skin around his eyes by now to take it for the tease it was. Still, after a dramatic spin and a few more saucy verses he gave in to Geralt’s grumbling and grabbing, if only to spare his lute from a tug-of-war. By then they had found a place to camp for the night and Jaskier shed his doublet to lounge against a rock, doodling idly in his notebook while Geralt unpacked. 

“Does no one ever ask where yours come from, then?” Geralt asked. It had been long enough that it took Jaskier a moment to connect the question back to their earlier conversation, then to glance down at where his own dark scars, thick and jagged, showed through the light fabric of his chemise. 

“Sure, but I’m a professional liar. Every time a bedmate asks I get a new song out of it, can’t complain about that.” Geralt hums in response. Jaskier hadn’t yet been able to figure out if those hums were meant to spur conversation or to stop it, but he always felt compelled to fill the silence after them whether he really wanted to or not. “Once I said it was from a shark, but apparently that was a bridge too far for belief. Still, throwing myself in front of a longsword to save a child, vicious acid attack, dangerous chaotic ritual I only barely escaped from…” Geralt snorted, the setting sun catching a slight smile on his face as he turned. 

“You have some credulous bedfellows,” he said, and Jaskier bought a few minutes acting offended, feeling triumphant when he saw Geralt’s smile grow. 

“I was seventeen,” he said after a few moments of comfortable silence, watching Geralt arrange wood from a fire. Geralt had not, and Jaskier knew that he would not, press about the true cause, but Jaskier wanted to tell him. Wanted the connection of a secret shared, trust given. “Have you ever met one who has crossed genders?” Geralt made an affirmative noise.

“Well, I had been saving for years after the local mage said that was the age I would be mature enough. I gave him all the coin I had saved, got  _ incredibly _ high off my neighbor’s herb, and I don’t remember too much of the rest. Slept for three days, couldn’t play for a month, but here we are.”

“Such procedures are dangerous,” Geralt said. “I’m impressed that you survived.” 

“Yes, well. I’m resilient, me. Like a bug, some say.” This brought the slight smile back to Geralt’s lips, satisfying Jaskier. The air had not changed between them, and Jaskier closed his eyes as he lay back against the rock, feeling simultaneously lighter and more anchored. 

\---

Jaskier was not a man who truly scared easily. He might make a big fuss when shocked or surprised, but truthfully nearly everything that happened to him that should have scared him only excited him, got him composing adventure ballads the moment he felt the spark of adrenaline. He thought he had felt close to death before, facing surgery and monsters and injury. Truthfully, he’d never felt closer to death than when the claw of the monster slid between his ribs, and it was not exciting. It did not spark song. It was a ringing, terrifying silence, and it scared him to his core. Through the whole trek from the forest to the camp to the village, in search of a mage for the poison spreading through him, the terror froze him even more effectively than the lack of air from his collapsed lung. 

“This will regenerate him. All his wounds,” he heard the mage say, and for a moment he relaxed, holding Geralt’s eyes and letting their steadiness reassure him. Then the meaning of her words sunk in and Jaskier’s eyes widened in a new kind of terror. He groped for Geralt’s hand again. 

“No-- Gera-- n-- don’t let them--” he gasped, the world going inexorably fuzzy at the edges. He thought he heard Geralt say something before his senses left him, but couldn’t be sure before whatever the mage had given him took him down. 

Jaskier woke with the terror a distant roar, crashing back over him like a wave as his consciousness returned. He reached out with one clumsy hand and met cool, solid skin-- a hand that folded firmly around his. 

“I told them.” Geralt’s familiar voice, slowing the wave. “They were able to stop the work of the medicine just after saving your life.” A ragged rush of air left Jaskier, pure relief. “Healing will take longer this way, but the poison is out and the rest will heal on its own.” 

“Thank you,” Jaskier said, blaming the shakiness of his voice on the pain still hot in his chest. Geralt hummed his familiar assent and Jaskier realized that he had not let go of his hand. He felt helplessly grateful for that. 

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably have waited to have a real plot before I posted this, but oh well.


End file.
